


Strays

by peloquine



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:30:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peloquine/pseuds/peloquine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron is a bit heartbroken after his last boyfriend so he gets a dog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loners

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like writing, but not anything depressing so this is what came out. It is a little weird.
> 
> And I didn't tag it as such because I don't consider actually consider it as such, but if you are, like, super sensitive, then there is a teeny, teeny, teeny tiny amount of bestiality in this one. But not really. You can probably figure it out.

“You’re pathetic,” Duro says.

Agron ignores him in favour of sticking his fingers in between the bars to a dog pen, getting them licked by a big, furry dog.

“You can’t replace a boyfriend with a dog,” Duro says. “Ew. That’s not what I meant, you freak,” he adds as Agron turns to look at him with raised eyebrows. “I’m just saying that getting a dog won’t make you happy.”

“I could get two,” Agron suggests, eyeing the long row of pens holding a myriad of different kinds of homeless dogs.

“That will only turn you into Crazy Dog Man,” Duro says. “Just go out and get yourself a date like a normal person. Can you even take care of a dog? Remember my goldfish? The one you killed?”

“I was six,” Agron says distractedly. “Gods, they’re all so cute.”

“And loud,” Duro adds sourly. The room is filled with excited, echoing yipping and scratching of claws against the bars as they walk along the hallway. Agron sticks his fingers into every pen and tries to pet them all.

Duro just rolls his eyes at the animals as they practically prostrate themselves in front of Agron – no matter how crappy Agron is when it comes to the caring of goldfish, dogs love him. Duro does not like dogs. They’re drooly, their breath smells bad and they’re always so fucking happy and excited. They bring carpe diem to whole new levels.

“You know, there’s this great guy at work,” he says. “He’s name is Anton and I’m sure you’d hit it off.”

“Me getting a dog has _nothing_ to do with the fact that me and Jones broke up, okay?” Agron sounds irritated and moves on from the cute Jack Russell trying to jump up and bite his finger.

“All I’m saying is,” Duro grabs his brother’s arm before he has a chance to stalk off, trying to be serious about this, “that you don’t need to get a new thing to take care off.”

Agron just rips his arm out of Duro’s grip and turns his back on him.

Duro sighs. As far as Agron is concerned, he got dumped by his asshole boyfriend. Only he doesn’t know the whole truth: Duro had, backed up by Saxa, Mira and Crixus and implicitly the rest of their friends, basically told him to get the hell out of Agron’s life before they uglied him up good. He isn’t really surprised that that somehow led to them ending up at the animal shelter – Agron does have a thing for strays. Duro just hopes that whatever dog Agron choses isn’t as good as breaking hearts as his former boyfriends.

“Fine,” Duro says. “Get a dog. But choose it quick, ‘cause I want to get out of here before they all follow you home.”

Agron has stopped in front of a pen which Duro had assumed is empty since there is nothing jumping up against the bars trying to get their attention in it. He moves closer and peers inside over Agron’s shoulder. There is a large black dog lying in a corner, head on its front paws. It looks like it’s glaring at them with its amber eyes.

Duro considers slamming his head against the wall. _Of fucking course_.

“This one, I think,” Agron says.

“It looks sick,” Duro tries.

“The manager said that all animals in here are checked and healthy,” Agron says, still looking at the dog.

“Well, then it’s probably depressed or something. Come on, take one of the happy dogs instead, Ag.”

“No,” Agron says. “This is the one I want.”

“But look!” Duro points to the pen across from where they are standing. “That one only has one ear!”

No luck.

- 

The next time Agron finds himself a shitty boyfriend, Duro is just going to let him keep him because nothing can be worse than this fucking dog. He growled at them the whole car-ride from the shelter to Agron’s house and continued to do so until they got him into the house, after which he fucked off upstairs, squeezed himself under Agron’s bed and stayed there.

“I’m not sure it is a dog,” Duro says, peering under Agron’s bed at the amber-eyed monster under it.

“What is it then?” Agron snaps. “A fucking hyena?” He waves some dog candy at the dog, but the dog just ignores him.

“Looks like a wolf.” It does – big, dark and dangerous.

Agron snorts. “It’s not a wolf. They don’t let you keep wolves as pets. When do you think he got fed last?”

“I don’t know,” Duro says with another deep sigh. “Why?”

“Well, I don’t want him to starve,” Agron says as if he is an idiot.

Great, the mother hen is already getting started.

“I’m pretty sure he’s going to come out and eat one of us when he gets hungry,” Duro says. “Couldn’t you have gotten that Jack Russell? It was small, cute and, you know, not a fucking _monster_.”

“He’s not a monster,” Agron says. “He’s just a bit disoriented. And he needs a name.”

“Wolfie?” Duro suggests.

A growl emanates from under the bed.

“No,” Agron says. “Haven’t you seen him? He’s a fucking beauty. He needs something dignified.”

This time the noise coming from the dog almost sounds pleased.

“Is that what you want to hear?” Agron asks, bending down to be able to look at the dog again. “Do you need to be sweet-talked out of there, huh, beautiful? Come out here now, uh…” He trails off, looks up at Duro. “How the fuck do you sweet-talk to a dog?”

Duro throws his hands into the air. “I’m out of here. Good luck.”

- 

The dog remains under the bed for another day. He eats when Agron pushes his bowl underneath the bed but he refuses to come out however much Agron tries to lure him by placing the bowl further away.

On the afternoon of the second day Agron has had enough and bodily drags the dog out from under the bed, ending up with scratches on his arm as a result. At least he didn’t try and bite him.

The dog already has a collar on, thank the fucking gods, so all Agron has to do is snap on the leash and drag him out the door. He is not cooperative in the least and once they get outside, but plants his feet on Agron’s lawn and glares at him until he turns his back to him – feeling extremely silly and hoping his neighbours aren’t watching – because apparently his dogs needs privacy to go about his business.

“You’re the weirdest dog ever,” Agron mutters as he drags him back into his house.

He hauls him in by the leach to pet him, thinking that he needs to get used to his scent and hands, but this time he does try to bite him. Agron sighs and takes off the leash. The dog disappears up the stairs in a flash again.

- 

When he wakes the next morning, the dog is lying on the other side of the bed, eyes closed and looking about as pleased as a dog can do.

“Hey,” Agron says, sitting up. “You’re not allowed to be in the bed. _Down_.”

The dog opens one eye, gives Agron a look, and closes it again.

“Seriously,” Agron says because he is the alpha in this house, for fuck’s sake, “Get. Down. _Now_.”

His command goes ignored.

He tries a different tactic and reaches his hand out, runs it experimentally down the expanse of the dog’s back. And again, when he doesn’t seem to mind. His fur is soft and warm and Agron buries his other hand in it as well, trailing it up to his ears to scratch.

The dog makes sound that Agron would call a purr if he hadn’t been a dog.

“See?” Agron says softly, scratching more vigorously as the dog his pushing back against his hand. “It’s not so bad being here is it?”

The dog rumbles in response.

- 

 _How’s the hellhound?_ he gets a text from Duro the next day.

 _Fine_ , he writes back.

_Any name yet?_

Agron latest attempt to name him was Ethelwulf, because he looked it up and it means “noble wolf” and also sounds quite badass, but he growls every time he tries to call him that. He doesn’t even accept Wulf.

_Nope._

“Hey, Hellhound,” he tries when it’s time for their walk. They’re going to take a real walk today, Agron has decided.

The name gains him a reproachful look from where the dog is lying on the couch – Agron has given up trying to keep him off the furniture; apparently his dog is too fancy to lie on the floor – but Agron just shrugs. “Nothing else seems to be good enough for you, so Hellhound it is, brat” he says. “I told you you should have stuck with Ethelwulf.”

His dog gives him another look but then actually jumps off the couch and lets Agron fasten the leash without putting up too much of a fight.

- 

Agron has to admit that Hellhound – and he seems to have reluctantly accepted the name now, probably afraid of what Agron would come up with instead of it – is a rather weird dog.

He’s at work, manning the counter since his client rescheduled her P.T. session at the last minute and it’s a slow day at the gym so he can check Facebook on the computer and think about his dog.

It’s not Hellhound’s fancy-pants tendencies that Agron finds weird – not only, at least. That damn dog is just too _smart_. Agron could swear that he understands what he says – only he won’t, because Duro will never let him hear the end of it, and then he will probably get some more unwanted relationship advice. Although, he has to admit, the fancy-pants attitude is a big part of it – Hellhound refuses to sleep anywhere but in the bed (and preferably without Agron if the way he tries pushes him out of it is anything to go by), only eats the most expensive dog food, and seems to prefer watching old movies on the television to playing with his chew toys. Agron is not an expert, but he is pretty sure that is not normal dog behaviour. He is also pretty sure that Hellhound barked disapprovingly when Agron put on his jeans yesterday. And it’s not like there was something wrong with them. Some tears across the knee and a ripped-off back pocket do not make a pair of pants unwearable.

His dog is a fucking snob.

- 

Agron has managed to get Hellhound down to the park with the help of the bacon-flavoured dog candy for a run and he actually seems to be enjoying himself, snapping after insects and barking at other dogs as the runs by Agron’s side. Agron smiles at his antics, glad that there is something that makes him happy.

When they stop to catch their breaths and for Agron to drink some water, a blonde woman comes up to them.

She opens her mouth to say something, but whatever it is gets interrupted by Hellhound throwing himself forward, almost yanking the leash out of Agron’s hand, growling and snapping after the woman.

“Hellhound!” Agron shouts at him, and pulls him back down. “Bad dog! Stop that!” He flicks him on the nose and Hellbound calms down – mostly out of sheer shock, it seems like.

Agron turns to the woman. “I’m so fucking sorry. He’s not usually this bad.” Not _always_ at least. “I hope he didn’t scare you too badly.” He holds the leash firmly with both hands in case Hellhound tries to go bat-shit crazy again.

“That’s fine,” the woman says and smiles. “His name is Hellhound? Really?”

Agron laughs a little self-consciously. “Well, yeah. He is a spoiled little brat – no name was good enough for him, so eventually I ran out of alternatives.”

“It seems to suit him,” the woman says. She laughs and it seems to Agron that it is directed more to Hellhound than him.

“Yeah,” he says. “He is a bit of a handful.” He reaches down to ruffle the fur on Hellhound’s head (which never fails to annoy him – seriously, Agron’s dog is so fucked up). “But I like him anyway.”

“That’s good,” the woman says. “There are too much people out there who doesn’t take care of their pets properly.” She smiles at him. “I was going to ask if I could pet him, but he doesn’t seem up for it,” – she actually grins at Hellhound – “so I have to get back to my friends.” She points to where some people is sitting on a blanket, talking and laughing. “It was nice meeting you. Bye.”

“Bye,” Agron says and has to hold on tightly to the leash as Hellhound tries to launch himself at the woman again, jaws snapping. Agron goes down on one knee and grabs his collar, which seems to calm him a little. “No more bacon candy for you, you freak,” he tells him and decides that it’s time to return home before Hellhound tries to attack someone else.

- 

It takes a while, but it seems like Hellhound goes from hating him, to dislike, to grudging acceptance. At least he is no longer only allowed to pet him in the mornings when he is drowsy and complacent and one night when Agron is home watching some game on TV while his friends is out on some couples-thing he has no wish to partake in, Hellhound snuggles up next to him with his head in his lap. Agron scratches him behind his ears and Hellhound makes his pleased noise.

“You do know that you kind of purr, right?” Agron says.

Hellhound gives him an affronted look and moves away to the other end of the couch.

- 

Agron slams the door shut behind him, kicks of his shoes and throws his jacket on the floor before slumping down on the couch, face-down, not caring that is acting like a baby.

Seeing Jones with somebody else shouldn’t make him feel like this. He should be happy that he is rid of the guy, because he was a stupid fucking idiot, but it still hurts. Agron wishes that he had been the one to break things off. Wishes that he had never met him. Wishes that he could stop getting so attached to losers. He has had more boyfriends than he cares to remember, and still he hasn’t ever been the one to really break up with any of them. It’s not that he falls hopelessly and irrevocably – he just has this weird, obsessive urge to take care of people and has trouble letting go.

He groans into the couch. He knows that Jones was an idiot – he knew that even before his friends took it upon themselves to inform him of the fact. He was jealous and petty and egocentric. Agron was mostly relieved when Jones finally broke up with him and still he can’t help but feeling rejected and unwanted. He sighs.

Then he startles as something cold is pressed against his hand. He looks down, only to see Hellhound pushing his muzzle against him, whining softly.

“Hey, boy, I’m okay,” he says, smiling a little as he starts licking Agron’s hand. Hellhound isn’t overly affectionate, to Agron’s disappointment. Part of the reason he chose to get a dog was because dogs are cuddly. Most of them anyway. Not Agron’s. But Hellhound seems completely fine with Agron sliding down onto the floor and pulling him into his lap, stroking both hands over his beautiful, black coat.

“You’re loyal at least, aren’t you?” Agron mumbles and chuckles when Hellhound reaches up and, hesitantly it seems, licks a wet stripe across Agron’s cheek. “I take that as a yes,” he says. “You’re not so bad, you know, even though you’re still a weirdo.”

- 

“There’s something wrong with your dog,” Mira says.

“There is nothing wrong with Hellhound.”

Mira eyes the dog dubiously from where he is daintily eating his food, careful not to get any on the floor or to gobble it down. “Are you sure it _is_ a dog?”

“Yes,” Agron says and ignores how Hellhound seems to glare at him at that. “He might have some wolf in him, though. Duro thinks so at least.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Mira says. “Are you sure he isn’t a… I don’t know, a demon or something?”

Hellhound growls at her.

“See?” she says.

“A demon? Really?” Agron laughs. “I know I call him Hellhound, but it’s just a name, nothing more to it.”

“Does it ever seem to you like he kind of understands what we are saying?” Mira asks, eyes still fixed on Hellhound like she is afraid he will attack her if she turns her gaze away.

“What do you mean?” Agron asks, feeling a cold chill creep down his back. He didn’t think anyone else had noticed.

“I don’t know,” Mira says. “It’s just that every time anyone teases you or says something mean to you, he growls or even tries to bite. And last week when Duro tried to talk you into that blind date, I’m pretty sure he tried to _maim_ him. He’s… creepy.” Mira frowns at Hellhound, who has finished his food and trots up to Agron to demand some petting.

Over the last few weeks, Hellhound had become quite the cuddle-bug. Agron quickly realised that belly-rubs was an even better way to make Hellhound go along with everything from walks in the park to baths without a fuss than bacon candy.

“He’s not creepy,” Agron says in his, what Duro calls it, disturbing lovey-dovey voice. “He’s just a little peculiar. Aren’t you, sweetie?” He pets his ears, smiles as the half-rumble, half-purr Hellhound emits.

“Seriously,” Mira says and she looks more amused than weirded out now, “you really need to get some.”

Hellhound growls menacingly at her.

“See? This is what I mean! Your fucking weirdo of a dog has a crush on you or something,” Mira says, pulling her legs up under her on the kitchen chair. Like Hellhound would chew on her toes. He probably considers it too unsanitary. He only chews on his toys if Agron rinse them off with water first.

“His just protective,” Agron says. Hellhound burrows his nose into Agron’s leg.

“Maybe you should try kissing him and I’ll turn into a gorgeous prince,” Mira says with a smile. “It wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“I’m not kissing my _dog_ ,” Agron says, pretending to be scandalized. “Ew. Just ew. Why do people keep thinking that I have a thing for dogs? Did someone miss the part where I like men? _Human_ men,” he adds when Mira opens her mouth. “Walking upright and non-furry. Well, a little furry is okay,” he concedes after a second or so of thinking. “But not, you know, _doggy_.”

Mira leans her head on her forearms on the table and howls with laughter.

“Okay, I’m shutting the hell up now,” Agron says and both he and Hellhound spends the reminder of Mira’s visit glaring at her.

- 

So maybe Agron finds his dog beautiful. His dog _is_ beautiful, with his amber eyes and black coat. He is like a hundred times more beautiful and regal-looking than all those shabby, yipping dogs they encounter when they’re out walking. His dog has fucking _dignity_. And he doesn’t drool either.

And maybe he has grown very fond of him. But that’s just because Hellhound is his canine best friend. He is loyal. And badass.

Agron is not considering kissing him to try out Mira’s theory. Because even if Hellhound is fancy as shit – for a dog – his breath still smells. And dogs are not for kissing.

So therefore Agron is very, very, _very_ surprised when one moment he is watching TV with half his dog in his lap, lazily scratching him behind the ears, and the next is finding his lap full of a very naked, very attractive man with hair the same colour as Hellhound’s fur who shoves his face into Agron’s neck, sniffing and licking at him.

So, yeah.

Apparently his dog really _is_ kind of weird. 


	2. The Eyes of a Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't supposed to be angsty at all. It just snuck up on me! I'm completely innocent.
> 
> Apparently there will be another chapter. *sighs*

“Not dog,” Hellhound mumbles against his neck. Apparently Agron said that out loud.

Agron says nothing to that. His brain has officially shut down. His no-longer-dog is still plastered against him, still with his head pressed against Agron’s neck. His tongue is actually lapping at him and Agron squirms. Maybe he is drunk. Or on drugs.

“So, not a dog, huh?” he tries. “You were one, though.”

The man growls. It sounds a bit different coming from a human throat, but it is Hellhound’s growl all right. Agron would know.

“Fucking Chadara…” the man mumbles and then he freezes against Agron. He pulls back slowly (and Agron shifts a little uncomfortable – can’t he just sit the fuck still, this is awkward enough as it is already) to look at him and Agron sees the amber drain away from his eyes, leaving them dark brown.

And, well.

If he was beautiful as a dog he is pretty much breath-taking as a human.

Agron has barely finished that thought before the man is gone – replaced by the dog who jumps down from the couch and rushes up the stairs, probably to hide under Agron’s bed again.

Agron remains sitting there for a very long time, staring at the television without actually seeing anything and quietly wondering exactly when he went mad.

- 

Agron spends about half a day pretending that the top floor of his house doesn’t exist, along with all things and creatures that may or may not currently be found there.

But eventually he cannot ignore it anymore, because he has to _know_ , dammit, so he looks up the name Chadara on his computer, not ready to go up the stairs just yet. There aren’t many Chadaras living in the country, and only one relatively close by so he tries that number first.

“Hi,” a female voice answers.

“Hi,” Agron says and falls silent. He hasn’t really thought about what to say. It is kind of crazy. But he’s got to try. “I, uh, got a dog a while back.” That seems like a good start.

“Yes?” she prompts when he goes silent again.

“And he’s, uh, he’s… I don’t know how to explain this, but he’s, well…”

“Not a dog anymore?” she suggest, sounding _gleeful_.

 _What the fuck?_ “How did you know that?”

She laughs. “Never mind. Just give me your address and I’ll come and get him.”

Agron frowns, even though she cannot see him. “If you think I’m going to let some random stranger come and pick up my dog, you’re wrong,” he says, because, sure, Hellhound is a apparently more of a freak than Agron could ever even imagine – _don’t think about it, don’t think about it_ – but he’s still his dog and he is responsible for him.

“I thought you said he wasn’t a dog anymore.”

“Well, he wasn’t, but now he is again.”

“Really?” Now it sounds like she is the one frowning.

“Yeah. He’s hiding under my bed.”

She goes silent for a while. “How long have you had him?”

“Hm.” Agron has to think back. It seems like forever. “A little more than two months? Not quite two and a half, I think.”

“Two months?” She sounds sceptical. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I still have the adoption papers from the shelter to prove it, if I can find them,” Agron says.

“Exactly how attached is he to you?” she asked after another long silence. “Does he allow you to touch him?”

“Yes.” It feels odd to say that – petting a dog is one thing, petting a dog that can _turn into a human_ is completely different. It seems a bit like some sort of… violation. Of what kind and on whom, Agron cannot possibly say.

“Pet him? Play with him? Bathe him?”

“Yes, yes and yes. Where are you going with this?” He’s getting irritated and confused. This is all just… completely insane. He should hang up and just pretend it didn’t happen. That would be so much easier.

“Two months…” She sounds contemplative. “Wait, are you that guy from the park?”

“I go to a park sometimes,” Agron says.

“Your dog tried to kill me once,” she says, sounding amused.

“Oh! Yeah, that was me,” Agron says.

“You named him Hellhound,” she says. “And you’re… Oh, right. Yeah, I can see how that happened.” More amusement and there’s definitely traces of lewdness in there as well.

“Can you help me?” he interrupts whatever it is that she finds so fucking funny.

“With what?”

“Oh, I don’t know? Maybe the fact that I have a freaky dog that can turn into a human under my bed!”

“He’s not a dog,” she says. “He’s a werewolf. And let me tell you, there are decidedly worse things you can have under your bed.”

“But what do I do with him?” he asks desperately, for now bypassing the fact that werewolves does not exist. He’s in shock, okay?

“I would say that you’re better equipped to handle him than I am. He doesn’t like me much right now. Good luck!”

She hangs up on him. _She actually hangs up on him_. Agron stares at the phone, refusing to believe it.

Fuck his life.

 

He wakes and stretches, grumbles as his body protests against having had to sleep on the couch all night. He tries to turn over, only to find that there is something heavy and warm lying across his feet.

Hellhound whines and hides his face between the couch and Agron’s leg as Agron sits up to be able to look at him.

“Hey,” Agron says softly and reaches out a hand to pat his head. Werewolf or no, Agron doesn’t like to see his dog in distress. He laughs a little at the thought, ruffling Hellhound’s ears. Yesterday’s events feel unreal, all of a sudden. Of course Hellhound didn’t turn into a man. Of course he’s not a werewolf – he may have some wolf blood in him, but that’s all. Dogs do not turn into people just like that. Werewolf are fictional.

“Right, boy?” he says, moving so that he is sitting more comfortably and in front of Hellhound so that he can look him in the eyes. He strokes his hands down through the fur on his sides. “You’re just a regular dog, huh? A bit high and mighty, perhaps, but other than that just a dog, right, buddy?”

Hellhound gives him an apologetic look before jumping down onto the floor, and a second later the man stands there instead.

“Fuck the gods,” Agron says weakly and lies back down, throwing an arm across his eyes. If he can’t see it, it doesn’t exist, he figures.

- 

“So you really are a werewolf. Jesus.” After three cups of coffee Agron is feeling marginally better, but it still seems like reality keeps slipping away from him, like some sort of curtain has been drawn aside, showing him what’s underneath. The protective gauze has been stripped away, leaving the world bare and strange.

There is a werewolf in his kitchen. Who has made him coffee. Who is wearing his smallest pair of sweats and a t-shirt that looks like a tent on him.

“Yeah.” The man seems nervous, his eyes flickering all over the kitchen while his fingers taps against the tabletop. He keeps squirming, like he isn’t completely comfortable in his skin. Maybe he likes being a dog… being a _wolf_ better.

“I take it your name isn’t Hellhound?” Agron asks.

And if he’s had any doubt about the fact that this actually is Hellhound in man-shape, he gets it confirmed when those dark eyes turn to glare at him. Nice to see that some things don’t change.

“No. It’s Nasir.”

Agron nods. It does suit him better than Hellhound.

“I’m sorry about… about yesterday,” Nasir says, looking away. “Shifting back after so long made me a bit… disoriented.”

Agron has noticed – the amber keeps bleeding in and out of his eyes, like it’s hard for him to keep it at bay.

“I talked to Chadara,” Agron says. “She seemed surprised that you were still here.”

Nasir’s head whips up to look at him. “You talked to Chadara? What did she say? I’m going to _kill_ her.” And it actually looks like he will – he is halfway out of his chair, his eyes are more yellow than brown and his teeth is elongating into fangs.

Oh, gods.

“Why?” Agron asks even as he is freaking out on the inside, and that seems to make Nasir snap back into himself and he sits down slowly, all human again.

“This is all her fault,” he says angrily. “I don’t know what she did, precisely, but somehow she forced me to change and remain like that for _months_.”

“Is she a werewolf too?” Agron asks, and hey, there’s a sentence he never thought he’d say out loud. It’s sort of cool. Almost.

“No,” Nasir says. “She’s a witch.”

“Of course she is,” Agron says. He’s not even going to try to anything with that information right now.

“She likes to play me pranks,” Nasir says sourly. “The families I’ve ended up with – ugh. I’ve had kids trying to braid my fur and ride on back and that wasn’t even the worst that’s happened to me since this happened.”

Agron cannot help but smile at that. “So this wasn’t so bad then?”

Nasir looks up at him again and he looks strangely vulnerable. “No,” he says. “It wasn’t so bad.”

“Do you have anywhere to go?” Agron asks after a short moment of silence. “A place to live, or…?”

Nasir shrugs. “I’ve been mostly stray the last years,” he says.

“How old are you?” Agron asks. He watches TV, reads books – he knows that supernatural creatures are often older than they looks.

“Twenty-four,” Nasir says and it looks like he is holding back a smile.

“How long have you been twenty-four?” Agron asks, eyes narrowing.

“About five months,” Nasir says and now he’s definitely smiling.

“So you’re, what, rogue?” Agron asks, deciding it’s best to change subject.

Nasir rolls his eyes. “No. I just haven’t settled down.”

“Drifting around must be a hell of a lot easier when you can turn into an animal at will,” Agron muses. Then the strangeness of the situation hits him again and gets up to get a beer from the fridge. Alcohol is the best way to deal with weird situations

“You want one?” he asks Nasir.

“No, thanks,” Nasir says. He swallows. “I… I think I should leave. Get out of your hair. Thanks for, you know, everything.”

Agron grabs his arm, ignores the way Nasir’s eyes change colour at the touch and how it sends a chill down his spine.

“You don’t have to,” he says. “If you have nowhere else to go… Then stay. I have room.”

Nasir looks torn. “If it’s no trouble…”

“None,” Agron says. “Just grab whatever you want from the fridge and no peeing on the rug.”

“Seriously?” Nasir says, annoyed. “Dog jokes?”

Agron smiles and takes a swig of beer. “It’s either that or hysterical screaming. Take your pick.”

“You seem pretty calm to me,” Nasir says, tilting his head slightly like he’s listening for something. “And as for food, I don’t have to eat yours. I can hunt.”

“What do you eat?” Agron asks suspiciously, only half-joking. “If it’s people I can’t condone that. Well, I have a couple of ex-boyfriends that I wouldn’t mind getting chewed on and then there’s Crixus, but still – murder’s wrong.”

“I’ll make do with bunnies,” Nasir says, dead-pan.

“Bunnies?” Agron says. “But they’re so cute and fluffy!”

Nasir doesn’t even dignify that with a response. “Could I take a shower?” he asks instead. “I can’t even remember when I had one last.”

Agron – a little put out that all the baths that he has given him and all the scratches and growls he received for it seems to count for nothing – goes to get him a towel and another shirt.

- 

The next morning Agron wakes in his bed, over-heated, and when he becomes a little more aware he notices that something is pressed up against his side. He smiles and has one hand stroking over soft fur before he remembers himself.

He snatches his hand back like he’s been burned. “Nasir?”

Nasir – in wolf-shape – blinks awake, looks sleepily at Agron for a moment before abruptly changing back into man, moving as far away from Agron has he can get.

“Shit,” he says, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry. I’m a bit less inhibited as a wolf,” he adds apologetically.

“What?” Agron asks, rubbing his eyes. This is too much. He is considering going back to sleep and never wake. He preferred his life before freaking _werewolves_ started sneaking into his bed while he’s sleeping. Maybe it’s time for that delayed panic attack now.

“Everything is more… instinctual,” Nasir tries to explain, and it looks like he’s blushing. “Human boundaries and things like that aren’t as important when I’m wolf.”

Agron turns his head so that it’s resting on the pillow, just looking at Nasir.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. He doesn’t specify if he means in his bed, or in his house, or in his life – he doesn’t really know himself.

“I don’t know,” Nasir says softly. “You’re just…” He trails off, makes a frustrated sound.

“Chadara seemed surprised that you had stayed here so long,” Agron says, hoping for… something. He has no idea what.

“Yeah.” Nasir appears to get more flustered at that. “There’s just something about you.” He sounds nearly accusing.

“Yeah?” Agron asks quietly.

But Nasir doesn’t say anything more and a minute later he gets up from the bed and leaves the room.

Agron sighs, turns over and goes back to sleep. It’s too early and it’s been a couple of rough days.

It’s only when he drags himself out of bed at noon that he realises that Nasir is nowhere to be found in the house.


	3. You Are the Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, there will be a fourth part. It just keeps growing.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Duro asks.

“He’s gone,” Agron says.

“He ran off?”

There’s a pause. “Yeah. He ran off.”

“Well, it can’t be that hard to find him,” Duro says, ignoring the note of defeat in his brother’s voice. “He’s a very, um, special dog. Have you called the shelters? Asked the neighbours? Put up posters? Do you want me to help you print some? We have this new printer at work and it’s awes….”

“Duro, it’s fine,” Agron says. “Let it go.”

Duro seriously cannot believe that a dog actually did manage to break his brother’s heart. He should have put his foot down, back there at the animal shelter. That one-eared dog or that crazy Jack Russell would never have managed this. Next time Agron will be getting a plush, and that’s that.

“What do you mean ‘fine’?” he says, trying to lighten Agron’s mood. “There is a _monster_ rampaging around in the streets. And how will he manage without his super-fancy dog food?”

“Just leave it,” Agron says.

- 

He calls Chadara after he has hung up on Duro. This time she seems _surprised_ that Nasir is gone. Agron just can’t deal with this crap.

“He’ll be back,” she says right before ending the call. “He’ll figure it out.”

And what the fuck is that supposed to mean, Agron wants to ask, but it’s too late – she is already gone.

- 

He’s been out running with Crixus and it feels like every muscle in both his legs is burning when he gets back home. Crixus is annoying as fuck, but he is good for some things, Agron has to admit – there is nothing that motivates him more than a chance to beat the Gaul at something.

He strips on the way to the shower, now that he no longer has to worry about losing his clothes to Hellhound. He had this weird thing about dragging Agron’s shirts onto the couch and napping on them.

Then he remembers that Hellhound is really Nasir and that suddenly seems like fifty times more weird and disturbing.

He showers quickly, towels off and collapses down into his bed nude, to worn out to bother getting a pair of boxers or sleeping pants out of the closet. He buries his head in the pillow that he imagines still smells like Nasir and falls asleep.

He wakes to a dip in the bed beside him, a cold hand trailing down his bare chest, a body next to him that is so achingly familiar even in its human shape.

“Hi,” Nasir whispers breathily into his ear.

Goose-bumps is breaking out all over Agron’s body; his window is slightly ajar and the cold autumn night air is sneaking in, and his comforter is pushed down to his hips – by him or Nasir he has no idea, and he doesn’t mind.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, taking Nasir’s hand in his and twining their fingers together.

Nasir pushes himself up on one elbow so that he is perched over Agron. “Just tell me no, and I leave,” he says seriously, even as their lips are mere inches apart.

Agron just leans up, closing the scant distance between them, and presses his mouth to Nasir’s – just tasting, not really kissing.

“You sure?” Nasir mumbles against his lips. “Come on, Agron, I need to hear it,” he says, frustrated, when Agron just chuckles and licks his tongue along the seam of Nasir’s lips, demanding entrance.

“Yes,” Agron says, lying back against the pillows. “I want you. I’m sure.”

Nasir nods, sits up and unzips his jeans. He has nothing on underneath and he is already hard and Agron’s head is pretty much swimming with lust and sleepiness and glorious want.

Nasir stretches out on top of him, seeking out his mouth. He is almost too warm – the coldness on his skin from outside has dissipated, and Agron can feel his heart beating quickly against his own through their chests. Nasir kisses with everything he has in him, cupping Agron’s jaw with his hands, licking into his mouth to coax his tongue into his own.

He grabs a handful of Agron’s hair and tilts his head back, kissing him deeper, fiercer, until Agron is gasping for breath, driven to the brink of madness by Nasir’s mouth and the feel of his body moving against his own. It is delicious, magnificent torture, and Nasir shows no inclination of stopping or taking this further than these mind-shattering kisses and innocent caresses along his neck and upper torso.

The kisses are filled with promises Agron wants nothing more than for him to act on. He groans and arches against Nasir. He slips his hand between their bodies to close around Nasir’s cock, but Nasir intercepts it, brings it up to his mouth and kisses his palm.

“Just let me take care of you for a while,” he says, smiling softly, and Agron is completely down with that so he falls back against the bed again as Nasir bends his head down to trace his pulse-point with his tongue. He sucks a mark into the thin skin, before continuing downwards, sucking a nipple into his mouth.

Agron lets his hands roam freely across Nasir’s back, down over his wonderful ass and thighs, revelling in the feeling of his silky, golden skin beneath his hands as Nasir’s mouth is working his nipple. He lets it go and licks his way across Agron’s chest to the other one and bites down gently.

“Fuck the gods,” Agron sighs, dazed, and he can feel how Nasir smirks against his skin.

Then he presses a final kiss in the middle of Agron’s chest before sitting up on his knees between Agron’s legs, looking down at him.

Nasir’s eyes go amber, and for a moment Agron cannot breathe. Something shifts across Nasir’s face, but whatever he’s thinking he shakes off and bends down again, mouthing at Agron’s belly-button.

Agron can’t help but thrust his hips up as Nasir swallows his cock down without any warning at all, but Nasir doesn’t seem to mind – instead he digs his nails into Agron’s thigh and takes him down deeper, opening his throat for him while swirling his tongue as good as he is able around the shaft.

Agron feels like he is close to dying, being obliterated by sheer pleasure. His pants are loud in the silence of the bedroom, accompanied only by the obscene, hot sounds Nasir makes around his cock.

Nasir’s fingers are stroking the insides of his thighs, and he pulls off Agron’s cock with a wet noise to mouth at his balls. He has his nose buried in Agron’s groin, breathing him in, his breath hot and wet against sensitive skin.

Agron starts to laugh a little and Nasir raises his head slightly to look up at him.

“Nothing,” Agron says and reaches a hand out to let it run through the dark, luxurious fall of Nasir’s hair. He doesn’t really know what this feeling of unadulterated _glee_ spreading inside of him is – the fact that he is having sex with a fucking _werewolf_ , or the fact that this – Nasir, them – makes him happy.

Nasir smiles at him before taking his cockhead back into his mouth, sucking on it and tonguing the slit. It is enough to make Agron stop laughing, to turn the tide of pleasure and desire moving within him turn into burning, fearsome _need_.

“Can I fuck you?” Nasir asks into the junction between groin and thigh and Agron almost hits him in the head when he grabs the lube out of the nightstand and throws it to him.

“Sorry,” he manages, even though he’s not, really, because he has currently other things on his mind, but this time it’s Nasir who laughs.

He slicks up his fingers before burying his head against Agron’s stomach to press hot, open-mouthed kisses there, trailing them teasingly lower and lower before moving up again. He has one arm thrown over Agron’s thigh and hip, the fingers of his clean hand caressing along his ribcage.

When he slow and steadily presses two fingers into Agron, Agron’s winces even as his cock dribbles out a bit pre-come against Nasir’s shoulder.

With Nasir a still dabbling his stomach with kisses and nips, Agron doesn’t think he’s noticed, but Nasir’s head shoots up.

He removes his fingers, ignoring Agron’s sound of protest. “You okay?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while is all,” Agron says.

Nasir moves up and Agron is so distracted by watching the lithe muscles shifting with his movement that he doesn’t even think about objecting, or ensure that Nasir that he is, in fact, completely okay. More than okay. Fucking, incredibly dandy.

Nasir kisses him, deep and dirty, and Agron can taste himself and Nasir mingling on his lips and that’s fucking hot. Agron is leaning up, searching for more, even as Nasir pulls back.

“Turn over,” he whispers in Agron’s ear and then moves away from him to let him shift on the bed so that he is lying on his stomach, face-down. He turns his head to the side so that he is facing the window, and outside the full moon is shining, bathing the bedroom in bleak, faint light. The sight of it has something twisting in Agron’s stomach and he frowns, trying to find what bothers him in the lust-filled fog that is the current sate of his mind.

Nasir must be growing impatient, for the second Agron stills, he is parting his cheeks with his hands and licking over the exposed flesh – playful, lapping strokes that has Agron writhing, his groans muffled by the pillows, his half-formed thoughts of worry and doubt immediately forgotten and buried. Nasir wastes no time in working his tongue inside of him, slow and carefully while holding him open with his thumbs.

Agron wonders idly how long ago it was since someone fucked him liked this – opening him up slowly, making him fall apart in order to put him back together, just fucking _giving_ him everything he wants and doesn’t even need to ask for.

Nasir is caring and attentive, pushing his fingers inside as he feels Agron’s ass give, and twisting them until he hits gold and pushes mercilessly against Agron’s sweet spot when Agron moans. He licks in between his fingers and Agron is gone, filled up with mindless, unbelievable pleasure, carried away.

One of Nasir’s hands closes around his dick without ceasing his onslaught on his ass for a second, and it only takes two, three strokes before Agron is crying out and coming all over the sheets, Nasir moving away from him to watch. Agron can feel his gaze, admiring and hungry and needy.

He flops down bonelessly on the bed, his whole body jellified by his mind-numbing, magnificent orgasm, and a second later Nasir’s cock is pressing hot and slick against his hole, pushing inside easily with how utterly relaxed Agron is. Agron cries out again, sensitive from coming, at the feeling of Nasir filling him up and his spent cock rubbing against the soft cloth of the sheets with Nasir’s movements as he bottoms out.

“You all right?” Nasir gasps against the skin of his neck, almost frantically trailing kisses down to his shoulders, his hips moving in small, aborted circles against Agron’s ass.

“Fuck me,” is all Agron answers, and Nasir does – he pounds into him while making dark, growling noises deep in his throat, and Agron has to reach out and grab on to the headboard to brace himself. He laughs and keens in pleasure because Nasir is moving his hips just right, hitting Agron’s prostate more often than not even as his own need and desire grows along the pace of his increasingly erratic thrusts.

Agron lets himself be swept away completely – all that exists in the whole world is them, their joined bodies, Nasir moving inside of him like nothing else matters ever and Agron is life itself.

Nasir plants one hand and one knee on the bed for a better angle and more force, and he makes snarling noises as his mouth seeks out Agron’s neck to kiss and suck at the already bruised flesh.

Agron’s cock is hard again and even as he thinks that he probably wont be able to come again, he does, stimulated by little more than Nasir’s cock, the friction from the sheet against his own and Nasir’s teeth – a little sharper than human – against his neck.

He howls and claws at the bed – and yeah, he’s probably going to find that very amusing later, when is not caught up in getting his brains fucked out – and comes and comes, his whole body a bright-hot mess of firing nerve-endings and hyper-sensitive skin.

Nasir doesn’t stop, just keeps fucking him deep and hard, and there is a little bit of pain amidst the pleasure but all that does is making Agron’s dick valiantly try and fail to get hard again.

Both of Nasir’s hands moves up from Agron’s hips and curls around his shoulders, holding him up against his body – and shit, he’s a lot stronger than he looks – pressing him closer and thrusting forcefully into him a few more times before shoving inside as far as he can go and stilling as he comes, his whole body shuddering against Agron. He can feel his mouth opening in a silent scream against his back.

It’s not until Nasir pulls out of him to collapse down beside him and Agron feels his come spill down his thighs that he realises that they kind of failed Safe Sex 101, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s too fucked out.

He opens his eyes only to see the full moon glaring at him and that uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach is back.

He turns over to see Nasir trying to catch his breath next to him and he looks blissful, his beautiful eyes half-closed and his hair spread and tousled over the pillows.

Agron decides to ignore all dark thoughts and bends down to press his lips against Nasir’s. Nasir sneaks a hand into his hair to deepen the kiss and when they finally pull apart, they are both breathing harshly again.

Every time Agron has imagined this – and he has done that far too many times since he woke up to find Nasir next to him that last time – he pictured this part as playful and elated, but it is intense and charged, like the minutes before a storm, and Agron knows that they won’t just kiss and lie down to fall asleep in each other’s arms – not for a long while at least. His body feel almost bruised by pleasure, but still he smiles and leans down to catch Nasir’s mouth with his again.

- 

When Agron finally blinks awake, it’s after noon and the sun is shining straight into his eyes. The window is still open, but Agron just groans and buries his face in Nasir’s hair, his body aching beautifully in all the right places.

“Good,” he mumbles, not caring that he gets strands of hair into his mouth.

“What?” Nasir asks and his voice is deep and rough with sleep.

“That you’re still here,” Agron says. “That you’re real. You never know with supernatural creatures that sneak into your bed at night.”

“Lots experience with ‘supernatural creatures’, have you?” Nasir asks, sounding amused and half-annoyed.

“Mm, yes,” Agron murmurs, smiling. “I’m a werewolf slut.”

Nasir presses his nose against the hollow of his throat and breathes in. “No, you’re not,” he says, and now he sounds pleased.

“You can tell?” Agron asks, intrigued, wondering what exactly Nasir can smell on his skin. Himself, probably. And that thought is sort of hot.

“Kind of.” Nasir rearranges himself so that he is draped along Agron’s body. “You mostly smell like us now, but there has never really been anyone else’s scent on you before either.”

“You sniffed me like this when you were a do… _wolf_ ” he quickly amends as Nasir’s elbow suddenly gets dangerously sharp, “when you were a wolf? That’s creepy.”

“Sorry,” Nasir says and Agron cannot see his face from where his head is resting above his heart, but his voice is regretful.

“Not creepy like _that_ ,” Agron says. “Well, a little bit. But more like, you know, holy-shit-werewolves-are-actually-real-creepy.” He laughs, suddenly delighted, and brings up one hand to card through Nasir’s hair. “I have my own pet monster,” he says, grinning.

Nasir growls a little, but Agron is pretty sure he is smiling too.


	4. Never Let Me Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending is super-fluffy and candy cottony. Don't forget to brush your teeth.
> 
> And I'll probably write more stuff in this 'verse, but not for a while yet. I want to focus on "I'll Splatter Colour..." for now.
> 
> Thank you all for reading!

It takes a while before Agron notices it. He supposes that it can be excused by the fact that he isn’t exactly used to dating men who can turn into freaking _wolves_ at will. He has so many questions – and jokes – about it, but for some reason it seems to make Nasir uncomfortable every time he brings it up, so he doesn’t. Instead he relies on Chadara for information. She answers most of his questions, but does it in a vague, teasing way that sometimes has _him_ growling with frustration at her through the phone.

Nasir has been growing more and more restless for days. He can barely sit still, his mood is foul, and he has random outbursts directed at pretty much anything that isn’t Agron. Agron doesn’t know how to deal with this – doesn’t even know what it is – and it distresses him. Nasir has become a permanent fixture in his life these last three weeks or so, and he wants him to remain that way.

But Nasir is growing more distant, more restless, and Agron can’t get something Chadara told him out of his head. “Some are more wolf than human and live almost exclusively as such,” she had said him when she had spoken with him yesterday. “Others are more human.”

“And Nasir?” he had asked, because that’s the only thing that really matters to him – werewolves are cool and all, but he doesn’t care about those there are out there, in human shape, or as wolf, or whatever. He cares about Nasir. He hasn’t told Chadara about the restlessness yet, but he tries to ask around it. She seems to have no qualms about telling Agron personal stuff about Nasir and maybe he should find that weird, but Nasir seems to trust her even if he’s still pissed about her cursing him or whatever it was.

“He’s sort of in between,” Chadara says. “He lives mostly as a human, even if in a rather nomad kind of way, but he spends a lot of time as a wolf as well.”

Only he doesn’t. Agron hasn’t seen him change shape once since the night Nasir returned. And he doesn’t slip out at night either – Agron is a cuddler and he would have noticed.

He thinks about how the moon was full that night they first slept together and how it lowers Nasir’s inhibitions whether he is in wolf or human shape. Chadara told him – all werewolf react differently to the full moon, apparently. Some hunt while other fuck, some are stuck in wolf shape, while others in human shape and so on, but it brings out and enhances the primal side in all of them.

Agron hasn’t asked how the full moon affects Nasir.

- 

Agron goes up in the middle of the night to take a piss and when he comes back to the bed, Nasir is gone.

He finds him in the kitchen, gripping the counter with white-knuckled hands and breathing laboriously, his skin slick with sweat. It shines in the light that Agron flicks on.

“Are you okay?” Agron asks anxiously, moving closer.

“I’m fine,” Nasir gasps.

He looks very far from fine. Agron had let go of him sometimes during the night when he half-woke to find Nasir’s skin unnaturally, feverishly hot against him. Nasir’s body temperature is slightly higher than average but not _that_ warm.

“You don’t look fine,” Agron says. He glances out the kitchen window. The moon isn’t full – not quite. But almost.

“Do you need to shift?” he asks.

“ _No_!” Nasir snarls, the wood under his hands creaking. His body is shuddering violently. “Please don’t touch me,” he adds pleadingly as Agron reaches a hand out for him. Agron lets it fall to his side.

Nasir’s forehead hits the cupboard and a drop of sweat slides down his naked chest. “Fuck,” he murmurs frantically. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His entire body goes tense for a second before relaxing again.

“Should I call Chadara?” Agron asks. His hands are clenched into fists by his sides. He doesn’t know what to do to help and it’s fucking torment just standing there watching as Nasir’s whole body is wrecked with whatever it is that’s wrong with him.

“No. She can’t help me,” Nasir says.

Another wave of tremors wash through his small frame and his fingers tighten further on the counter edge and Agron catches a glimpse of blood from where his nails are digging into his palms. He decides to disregard Nasir’s order not to touch him and takes his shoulders gently into his hands, pressing him back against his body.

“No, Agron,” he says, squirming in his arms. He knows that Nasir could easily get out of his embrace if he tried to. Agron’s human muscles is no match for supernatural strength. “Let me go. And go away. Please. Before…”

“Before what?” Agron asks into his hair. “You’re afraid you going to hurt me?”

“I would never hurt you,” Nasir says and he sound reproachful. “Idiot.” That is said almost sullenly, like he’s actually offended at the mere thought.

Agron smiles a little at that, even as he is relieved. “Then what?” he asks.

Nasir is silent for a long, long moment, still shaking in Agron’s arms, his hands still gripping the counter like he’s life is depending on it. “I need to shift,” he whispers eventually, like it’s a dark, horrible secret he has desperately tried to hide and slumps against the cupboard. “I haven’t been wolf in almost a month.”

“Then shift,” Agron says. “Or aren’t you able to anymore? Has Chadara…?”

“No,” Nasir interrupts quietly. “I can still shift.”

“Well, then,” Agron says. He lets go of him and takes a couple of steps back to give him room.

Nasir doesn’t move.

“I’m not human,” he says, still with his forehead pressed against the cupboard and his eyes firmly closed. “And I can’t be. Not even for you. I tried.”

“What?” Agron says, confused.

“I know it scares you,” Nasir says. “I heard your heartbeat when I shifted. So I left. But then I came back because I thought I could be human. For you. But I _can’t_.”

Agron is a bit slow on the uptake, because he didn’t see that coming. But then everything suddenly slots into place and his knees almost go weak with relief because this? This he can handle – this he can fix.

“My dog all of a sudden turned into a man right in front of my eyes,” he says slowly, because he is going to get Nasir to understand. “Of course I was scared – at first. Now? Not so much. So you’re not human. I don’t fucking care.” He puts his hands on Nasir’s waist and turns him around to face him. His eyes are tinted yellow, and he closes them quickly.

“Hey.” Agron gently takes his face between his hands. “Stop that, beautiful. You’re gorgeous in both your shapes, and everything in between.” Nasir hasn’t stopped trembling and he tastes salty of sweat when Agron kisses him. “Go out and run, hunt fluffy animals and howl at the moon or whatever it is you do. I don’t care. You’re part wolf and that means you need to do wolfy stuff. I get that. I accept that.” Agron presses another kiss against his mouth. “Just come back to me.” His voice is small.

Nasir suddenly melts against him, winding his arms around his waist. He holds him hard and close for a second before sliding out of the embrace. He shifts, and Agron is sure he is sniffing for all he’s worth at the same time to make sure Agron is telling the truth about not being frightened.

Agron goes down on his knees and buries his hands into his soft fur, to show Nasir that he is completely fine with him like this and also for his own sake, to hold onto him a little while longer.

Nasir looks wild and free as a wolf and Agron is suddenly and undeniably afraid that he will run out into the night and never return. Nasir whines a little and butts head against Agron’s chest.

Agron strokes him over his back one more time before letting him go.

- 

He stays awake until Nasir comes back home, human again, and crawls into bed. He fits himself against Agron’s chest, and pulls his arms around him. His skin is chilly and there is rain in his hair. Agron pulls the comforter even higher up over them and kisses the back of his neck.

Nasir is already starting to fall asleep, grumbling quietly and wordlessly as Agron re-arranges them so that Nasir’s ice-cold feet is no longer pressing against his shins. Nasir twists a little, silently asking for a kiss and Agron complies, softly taking his mouth for a second and letting his tongue slide along his lower lip.

“Ew, bunny-breath,” he mumbles teasingly in Nasir’s ear and Nasir laughs.

Agron smiles into his hair and listens as his breathing evens out.

“I love you,” Nasir says softly, long after Agron is sure he has fallen asleep. “And I’ll always come back to you.”

Agron cannot speak for a minute or two, but Nasir understands. Perhaps the beating of his heart says it better than Agron himself ever could.


End file.
